The Virgin Mary with Baby Jesus in her lap surrounded by the Magi and shepherds. (Աստուածաշունչ հնոց եւ նորոց կտականարաց մերեն պարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեացն մերոց եւ ճմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Amsterdam: St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sargis, 1666-68), p. 501). (Or.70.bb.2).

With Christmas almost upon us, it’s time for the Curatorial Team in the Asian and African Collections to put down our tools and enjoy a well-deserved break. Before we go, however, I’d like to leave you with a few visual treats to enjoy over your own holiday slow-down. 

After working with our Armenian materials for much of the last year, I decided to hunt among them for a few images of the Nativity. Thanks to the monumental work of our tireless and exceptionally committed former Lead Curator for the Christian Orient, Dr. Vrej Nersessian, information about these is never out of hand. His A Catalogue of the Armenian Manuscripts in the British Library and Catalogue of Early Armenian Books, 1512-1850, together with Conybeare’s 1913 Catalogue, ensure the discoverability of nearly all the early Armenian textual heritage in the British Library.  

In October of this year, I visited the National Library of Armenia’s Printing Museum. This was followed by a trip to Rome and a presentation by Dr. Erin Piñón, now a Postdoctoral Fellow at the Kunsthistorisches in Florenz and expert on early Armenian printing. Both have inspired me to seek out images in early printed Armenian Bibles, rather than manuscripts. Armenian printing in Europe is closely bound up with the Mkhitarists, an Armenian Catholic order based in San Lazzaro degli Armeni, Venice and Vienna. And, as Armenian Catholics celebrate Christmas on 25 December, while the Apostolic Church marks it on 6 January, it seemed fitting to use a printed work for your December delight.  

An image of the printer Abgar T'okhatets'i meeting the Doge of Venice. (Սաղմոս ի Դագիթ, (Venice: Abgar T'okhatets'i, 1565-66), f. 59r). (Or.70.a.9)

The oldest Armenian printed book in the British Library is an imperfect copy of Psalter printed at Venice by Abgar T’okhatets’i (Աբգար Թոխաթեցի) in 1565. It doesn’t include images of the Nativity, but it does have this delightful woodcut illustration of his reception by the Doge of Venice.  

Gabriel arrives on a cloud to inform Mary that she will conceive the Messiah. (Աստուածաշունչ հնոց եւ նորոց կտականարաց մերեն պարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեացն մերոց եւ ճմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Amsterdam: St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sargis, 1666-68), p. 499). (Or.70.bb.2).

For a view on the Annunciation and the birth of Christ, we must turn to something slightly younger and more northern. This is the first printed Armenian Bible, including the New Testament, printed at St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sarkis in Amsterdam in 1666-68. Father Vrej’s Catalogue states that the text is based on a manuscript dated 1295 CE, adjusted to the Latin Vulgate and edited by Oskan Vardapet Erewants’i (Ոսկան Երևանցի), who was also its printer. It is from Oskan’s name that this Bible is occasionally called the Oskan Bible. It contains a fair number of woodcut illustrations by Christoffel van Sichem II, including one of the Nativity (at the top of this post), as well as others of the Annunciation just above this paragraph and of the Circumcision of Jesus below. The first two prints can also be found in Dutch-language works, as seen in the collection of the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee (#12 and #1 respectively). The letters in the images of the Annunciation and Jesus in the Temple should correspond to legends that are present in the Dutch texts.  

The mohel bends over Jesus to circumcize him in a scene that become much more common in Western European Christian art throughout the Renaissance, but was largely absent from Armenian Christian art. (Աստուածաշունչ հնոց եւ նորոց կտականարաց մերեն պարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեացն մերոց եւ ճմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Amsterdam: St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sargis, 1666-68), p. 502). (Or.70.bb.2)

The Circumcision scene very obviously mirrors other northern European renditions, such as this one by Flemish engraver Hieronymus Wierix in the Rijksmuseum, and this by Flemish printmaker Jan Matheus, also in the Rijksmuseum. Both have a candelabra above the Christ Child, and the circumcision is being performed by a mohel or other professional in a temple, not at home. The clothing of those around Christ is modelled more on Northern European patterns than anything that the artists might have imagined was in style in Palestine 1600 years earlier. Lastly, the inclusion of the IHS Christogram and heart with three nails (those that pierced Christ on the Cross) are the emblems of the Jesuits, a Catholic order founded in 1540 and influential on Christian communities in West Asia, including one particular printer we’ll meet below. 

The front board of the 1666 Bible showing the Crucifixion scene and its elaborate metal clasps. (Աստուածաշունչ հնոց եւ նորոց կտականարաց մերեն պարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեացն մերոց եւ ճմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Amsterdam: St. Ējmiatsin and St. Sargis, 1666-68). (Or.70.bb.2)

The illustrations in this Bible are not the only eye-catching component of the work. The Cambridge holding has only a plain calf binding, while the Library of Congress holding is also bereft of its original binding. The British Library’s copy of the work, however, has a beautiful leather binding with metal decoration and clasps, with one side showing the Crucifixion and the back an image of the Virgin Mary. 

The title page of the 1705 Istanbul printing of the Bible in Armenian. The stamp at the bottom of the page is of the Mkhitarean Library in Vienna. (Աստուածաշունչ Հնոց եւ Նորոց Կտակարանաց ներպարունակօղ շարակարգութեամբ նախնեաց մերոց եւ ճշմարտասիրաց թարգմանչաց (Istanbul: Petros Latinats'i, 1705). (17021.b.7)

This text was again printed in Istanbul in 1705 by Petros Latinats’i (Պետրոս Լատինացի), a student of Oskan’s. Copies of the 1705 Bible are relatively rare compared to some of the other editions, but we are lucky to care for one at the British Library. Latinats’i’s text mirrors that of the Amsterdam edition, but our copy does not include the same set of engravings. The Nativity scene is notably absent, although it does have a wonderful title page.  

Despite the inclusion of elements of the Latin Vulgate in this text, it is not necessarily a Catholic work. The redactions were necessary, as described in a blog about the Oskan Bible, to win the support of secular and (Catholic) religious authorities and censors. Indeed, the Armenian Rite is used by both members of the Armenian Apostolic Church (who are in communion with the Coptic Orthodox Church, the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church, the Syriac Orthodox Church, and various other denominations often called Oriental Orthodox) and the Armenian Catholic Church. This latter group reflects the influence of Latin Crusaders in the Kingdom of Cilicia and successive, deepening contacts with the Latin Catholic Church in Rome. And when it comes to (sectarian) printing history, the key date is not the Council of Chalcedon in 451 CE, when the Armenian Church and other Oriental Orthodox Churches ended communion with the rest of Christianity, but 1773, when some Mkhitarists split from the Apostolic Church but remained in communion with Rome.   

The Nativity scene as found in the 1733 print of the Armenian translation of the Bible completed in Venice by Mkhit'ar Sebastats'i. (Աստուածաշունչ Գիրք Հնոց եւ Նորոց Կտակարանաց, աշխատասիրութեամբ Մխիթարայ Սէբաստացւոյ (Venice: Anton Bortoli, 1733-35), p. 932). (17021.d.3)

We’re getting ahead of ourselves. In 1701, an enterprising Armenian Catholic monk, Mkhit’ar Sebastats’i (Մխիթար Սեբաստացի), founded the Mkhitarist Congregation in Istanbul, gradually moving it to the Peloponnese and then San Lazzaro. In addition to his religious duties, Mkhit’ar took up the task of regularizing the Armenian language and printing religious materials. Among his masterpieces is his Bible, printed in Venice in 1733-35 (the topic of Dr. Piñón’s lecture), a re-edition of the 1666-68 Oskan Bible. It too includes a small woodcut of the Nativity, showing Baby Jesus atop the Virgin’s knee receiving gifts from the Magi. A bright star shines down on them, with Joseph tucked in the background and the shepherds even further removed. What I find most interesting is that the manger seems to be an afterthought. A thatched roof is there, but it’s partially obscured by the masonry of some now partially-ruined Classical structure, a stone column beside Mary. 

The Virgin Mary with the Christ Child asleep in a basinet as a shepherd adores him. (Sebastats'i, Mkhit'ar, Գիրք Քրիստոնէական վարդապետութեան, ընդ որում եւ երգք տաղից առադրին (Venice: Anton Bortoli, 1771), p. 84). (17026.c.13)

Religious practice, Catholicism included, relies on more than one text. As important as the Old and New Testaments might be, a host of other works – lectionaries, missals, catechisms, not to mention Church law and philosophical texts, plus religiously themed poetry – all impart knowledge and wisdom on the practices and beliefs of the Church. They strengthen believers’ faith and provide common bonds to keep the congregation whole. Armenian Catholic printers, whether Mkhit’ar or his successors, did turn their hands to such texts as well. The last image that I’ll leave you with is one less common in terms of traditional Nativity imagery. Nonetheless, it seems to me a particularly poignant image of tranquility between the Virgin, the Holy Infant, and a host of other actors. Taken from a catechism produced by the Mkhit’arists in Venice in 1771, just two years before their schism, it depicts Mary rocking the Baby Jesus in a basinet. Cherubim are playing music and showering mother and child with flowers while a shepherd boy, his crook in hand, and a tiny lamb laying by his feet, pays his respects to the newborn king. Mary puts her finger to her lips, reminding the visitor that Baby Jesus, too, needs his rest.  

It’s an image that reminds us all to take things a bit slower over the coming weeks. With it, we leave you in the hope that your holiday season is filled with peace and joy.  

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head, Middle East and Central Asia 

Further Reading 

Conybeare, F. C. A catalogue of the Armenian manuscripts in the British Museum (London: Trustees of the British Museum, 1913). 

Nersessian, V. A catalogue of the Armenian manuscripts in the British Library acquired since the year 1913 and of collections in other libraries in the United Kingdom (London: The British Library, 2012). 

Nersessian, V. Catalogue of early Armenian books, 1512-1850 (London: The British Library, 1980). 

The British Library’s Ottoman Turkish manuscript holdings include nearly 2000 volumes. Many of these are notable for the contents of the texts that they contain, such as the Divan-i Kadi Burhaneddin, or the lavish artistic efforts they attest, such as the Nusretname. Others hold the reader’s attention less, at least on first sight. These, of course, can be just as interesting as the more famous, more luxurious volumes with whom they share the Library’s stacks. Some even hold little treats waiting to be recovered. Or 7745, the Divan-i Bîçâre, is one such volume.

A page of poetry from the Divan-i Bîçâre. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, f 41r)

An 18^th- or early 19^th-century volume, the Divan is a collection of the poetry of a 17^th century Ottoman poet named Abdullah ibn-i Şaban who went by the mahlas Abdî before settling on Bîçâre (Helpless, Without Remedy). From a quick look through the book, it is a collection of largely religious or Sufi poetry copied in a talik hand.

The acquisition slip, including brief description of the Divan-i Bîçâre. (Acquisition slip for Divan-i Bîçâre, London, 1960s?). 

The acquisition slip attached to the volume notes that Bursalı Mehmet Tahir’s Osmanlı Müellifleri describes Bîçâre as being the “halife of Dizdarzade Ahmet Efendi of Balıkesir, the successor of the well-known Celveti saint Hüdayi Mehmet Efendi [Aziz Mahmud Hüdayi] of Üsküdar ... and was murşid to Atpazarı Osman Efendi and to Selami Ali Efendi.” The Türk Edebiyatı İsimler Sözlüğü of Ahmet Yesevî Üniversitesi quoted above (the hyperlink for his biography) provides more information on Bîçâre, relying largely on the famed late Ottoman biographer and chronicler Mehmet Süreyya’s research. It explains that his father, Şaban Dede, was the Zakirbaşı (the Sufi order member leading the congregation in zikir or dhikr, ذكر) to Hüdayi’s Celvetî Order and a great scholar of Ottoman music. He set Hüdayi’s ilahiler to music (“bestelenmiş”) while also writing poetry of his own under the mahlas Zakiri. Bîçâre also had a sister, but we have no information about her name or the path her life took.

Şaban Dede took great care with his son Abdullah’s education, instructing him in or ensuring his tuition of Arabic, Persian, and the Islamic sciences. Bîçâre made a name for himself as a Sufi poet of great skill in rhetoric, oratory and preaching. He first worked in Manisa before returning to Istanbul as the Şeyh of the Ali Paşa Dergahı. He remained in the Celveti order and composed poetry throughout his life, but the only work he is known to have left is his Divan. Bîçâre passed away in Üsküdar in 1068 AH (1657 CE) and his grave can be found in the Karacaahmet Cemetery in this district of the city.

Or 7745 might seem like one of the hundreds of divavin and other collections of poetry that the Library holds, one penned by a poet with an interesting history. But the Sözlüğü immediately points us to why it is important, noting that only two copies of Bîçâre’s Divan are known: one in Bursa’s İnebey Yazma Eserleri Kütüphanesi, and the other in Süleymaniye Kütüphanesi’s Yazma Bağışlar Bölmü. This, then, is a third, long-lost cousin to the two documented volumes, an important addition to the corpus of extent work from which we can learn more about Bîçâre’s oeuvre.

The opening of the Divan along with an additional introductory note. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, f 1v)

The text of Or 7745 makes it clear that this was far from a luxury copy. It is bereft of the sort of illuminated, colourful unvan that we would expect from a more expensive copy. The 45 folios have no small number of additional du-beyitler, likely the copyist themselves correcting the work. The lack of a colophon means that we don’t know who that might have been, when they worked, or where. A small note at the start of the text, likely also by the copyist, provides some biographical information about Bîçâre that largely accords with what we see in the Sözlüğü, but adds that “Sultan Mehmet vaiziyken vefat etmiştir rahmet Allah aleyhi” (“He died while the preacher of Sultan Mehmet, may God have mercy on him”). This indicates that the copy is from after 1657 CE, year of Bîçâre’s death. There is no indication from the sources at hand that this final attributed profession of his is true. Indeed, the notice is slightly tortuous in describing Bîçâre’s appointments and those of his father, which might indicate that the author of this information might have got things a bit mixed up.

Acquisition note recording the date of purchase of the manuscript from Ibrahim Elias Géjou on 11 May 1912. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, fly-leaf)

A more pressing question, however, comes to my mind: where has this volume been hiding? Well, since 11 May 1912 it is has been in the collection of the British Museum, and then British Library. It was purchased on this date from I. Elias Géjou, a well-known Paris-based supplier of manuscripts to the British Museum. Géjou, according to the British Museum’s website, was an Iraqi-Armenian dealer with French citizenship who dealt largely in Mesopotamian antiquities pre-1914. The Museum claims he only dealt in Mesopotamian materials before this date, but Or 7745 makes it clear that his gaze went beyond Iraq earlier than that when it came to manuscripts.

How did Géjou get hold of this volume? Most of the work conducted on Géjou’s life and work focus on his trade in ancient Mesopotamian works, especially those featuring Cuneiform. Dr. Nadia Ait Said-Ghanem of the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Study has explored this aspect of Géjou’s legacy in much detail (see both her blog and a recently published paper). We, however, will need to turn to the manuscript itself for clues.

Two inscriptions at the start of the Divan including the ownership statement of Abdülhak. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, f 1r)

Or 7745 contains a number of inscriptions, two which start our search on f 1r. They are in hands that differ from one another and that of the main text. One that goes parallel to the spine of the work, in rık’a, appears to be a short poem addressed to “Beyrut Valisi Nasuhî Bey.” I had originally read it as "Mutassarıfı," but Prof. Jun Akiba kindly corrected me with a more appropriate interpretation. It is undated, but we know that Abdülhalik Nasuhî Bey was the Vali of Beirut between August 1894 and March 1897, which makes it likely that the poem was written in the 1890s. It seems probably that Nasuhî Bey, himself a poet, would have seen this, but did it mean that the book itself was in his possession?

A second inscription on the bottom left corner of the page, in unpointed Divani script, is indeed dated. I find much of the inscription quite difficult to read, but thanks to the very generous support of Dr. Mykhaylo Yakubovych, Dr. Şeyma Benli and Prof. Jun Akiba, who responded quickly to my Facebook post, we know what it says. The text reads “Min e’azzu mümtelekâti’l-fakîr Abdülhakk el-kadî bi-askeri Anadolu bâ-pâye-i Rumeli 55,” an inscription indicating that this book is the property of Abdulhak, Kazasker of Anatolia and Rumelia in (12)55 AH, or 1839-40 CE. This likely refers to Abdülhak Molla, who held a dizzying array of titles relating to both hekimbaşlık (the post of Chief Physician) and kazaskerlik (Chief Judge) for various cities and administrative units up to and including Anatolia and Rumelia throughout the 1830s to 50s, until his death in 1854 CE.

The two birth notices for es-Seyyit Mehmet Arif and Fatime. (Divan-i Bîçâre, Istanbul?, 18th-early 19th century. Or 7745, f 45v)

The last page of the work gives us a final clue about the manuscript’s ownership and production. Under the heading “Tarih-i Mehmet Arif İbnü’s-Seyitü’l-Hacc Mehmet Sait” (“the History of Mehmet Arif İbnü’s-Seyitü’l-Hacc Mehmet Sait”) there are two birth notices. The first, dated 7 pm on Friday, the “gurre” of Şa’ban (1^st of the month of Şa’ban) 1238 AH, or 12 April 1823 CE, announces the birth of “my son, es-Seyyit Mehmet Arif” (“oğlum es-Seyyit Mehmet Arif dünyaya teşrif eyledi”). From the title of the page, it’s clear that it’s es-Seyitü’l-Hac Mehmet Sait who is writing this notice, or having it written on his behalf. Just below it is another one, this time announcing the birth of his daughter Fatime in the morning of Saturday 9 Ramazan 1239 AH, or 7 May 1824 CE, about 13 months after her brother. In this notice, Fatime’s mother Şerife Emine Hanım is identified as es-Seyitü’l-Hacc Mehmet Sait’s wife (“karım”).

From these two inscriptions, we know that the work would have been in the possession of es-Seyitü’l-Hacc Mehmet Sait at least until the mid-1820s. It’s hard to tell exactly where he might have lived, but the fact that the inscription is in Ottoman Turkish, not Arabic, and the later ownership of the work by Abdülhak Molla, makes me think that this might have been a household in Istanbul.

What can we say from all of this? We know that Bîçâre died in 1657 CE and that Mehmet Arif was born in 1823 CE, so the volume must have been produced at some point between these two dates. Moreover, it might have been in Abdülhalik Nasuhî's possession as late as 1897 CE, possibly in Beirut, where a fan of the Vali inscribed it with a brief poem. But at some point over those 15 years between Abdülhalik’s tenure and the manuscript’s purchase by the British Museum, it made its way into the possession of M. Géjou. More research on his pre-World War One dealings with texts is needed before we can fill in those gaps, and the travels of this unassuming volume. Until then, however, we can still raise a glass of sherbet to the recovery of a third copy of Bîçâre’s Divan, and a belated cheer to the births of Mehmet Arif and Fatime, whatever might have become of them.

Dr. Michael Erdman, Head, Middle East and Central Asia

The Lalitavistara is a Mahayana sutra (Sanskrit sutra or Pali sutta, meaning text, discourse, canonical scripture) about the life story of Gautama Buddha, covering the time of his descent from Tushita heaven until his first sermon in the Deer Park at Sarnath, Varanasi, India. It narrates how the Buddha manifested in this world and gained awakening.


The Lalitavistara, with five Dhyani Buddhas on the wooden cover, Patan, Nepal, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, cover

The title Lalitavistara has been translated as “the play in full”. It consists of 27 chapters and is written in Sanskrit and a vernacular dialect also known as 'Buddhist hybrid Sanskrit'. Portions of the text date back to the earliest days of the Buddhist tradition, but it is not known when the Lalitavistara was finally edited (Winternitz 1933: 252-3). Both the style and language of the text suggest a compilation: the work includes a continuous narrative in Sanskrit prose, with metrical passages in mixed Sanskrit, and the topics of the prose and verse parts often overlap. The point of view also changes occasionally from the third person to the first person, where the Buddha himself narrates the events. It is therefore believed that the Lalitavistara is not the work of a single author, but an anonymous compilation in which very early and more recent passages stand side by side.


The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, Queen Maya dreams of a white beautiful elephant entering her womb, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f.36r

In the Lalitavistara the miraculous element in the legend of the Buddha’s conception and birth is overemphasised, compared to accounts in other Buddhist schools. There are also a number of concepts and stories that appear in the Lalitavistara for the first time that are missing in similar Pali texts. One is in chapter 10, recounting the first day of the young Buddha as a Bodhisattva, while chapters 12 and 13 also contain episodes which are missing in other biographies of the Buddha. The last chapter (27) praises the Lalitavistara itself and enumerates the merits one gains by honouring this text (Winternitz 1938: 251, 252).


The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, Queen Maya giving birth to the Buddha, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f. 73v

The Lalitavistara, like other post-canonical Buddhist literary works written in hybrid and pure Sanskrit, represents the Buddha not just as a sage, but as an extraordinary being “adorned with the 32 marks of the Great Man”. The Buddha’s beneficial power, compassion, and omnipotence is stressed in these texts, where this marvellous being is depicted as a living miracle: upon seeing him the blind see, the deaf hear, the dumb speak, the sick are cured, and so on. Everywhere he lives he is worshipped and respected by the kings, the wealthy, the gods and all other beings (Lamotte1988: 645-6). In the Lalitavistara, the Buddha says that when he was born, this trichiliocosm (a universe of a billion worlds) trembled, and all the gods bowed their heads to his feet and paid homage to him; he is superior to all the gods, he is the God of Gods, but he will still follow his worldly customs (Lamotte 1988: 624).

The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, the monks crossing the Ganges on a boat, while the Buddha flew to the other side of the river, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f.221r

The oldest copies of the Lalitavistara date from the end of the second century or the beginning of the third century, and it can be assumed that the original composition (or compilation) dates from the beginning of the Christian era. Although the Lalitavistara summarises a series of the jatakas (stories of the former existences of the Buddha), the biography remains incomplete, as it doesn’t mention the Buddha’s first return to Kapilavastu (the principal city of the Śākya clan) or his missionary trips, and there is no account of his demise. The Lalitavistara ends with setting in motion of the Wheel of the Dharma, which perhaps suggests that the narrative aims to tell the story of the complete awakening of a bodhisattva in his last existence (Lamotte1988: 654-5).

The Lalitavistara sutra has inspired elaborate artwork in different parts of Asia, and the themes of the text can be seen in temple art in Gandhara, and at the Borobudur temple complex in Java.


The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, the Buddha conquering all demonic congregation, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f.195v

There are three complete and one abridged manuscript copies of the Lalitavistara at the British Library, all from the collections of the India Office Library. The copy most often written about, and illustrated above, is I.O San 688, part of the B.H. Hodgson collection, which is adorned with coloured illustrations depicting scenes of the life of the Buddha. According to the colophon, the text was inscribed in Patan, Nepal, in 1803 by the Buddhist Pandit Amrtananda for Captain W.D. Knox, who is described as someone whose “liberality and other virtues surpassed the Hindu divinities and proved him to be an Avatara of Buddha”. An illustration at the end of the manuscript shows the presentation of the volume (ralitavisara) to Captain Knox, the first British resident in Nepal and an officer in the army of the East India Company, depicted in the military attire of the period and holding a prayer wheel.


The Lalitavistara, written in Sanskrit in Devanagari script on paper, with a painting of Pandit Amrtananda and Captain Knox. Patan, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, f. 253v

The same two figures appear with the Bodhisattva Manjushri (representing transcendent wisdom) and auspicious symbols on the back cover of the manuscript.

Pandit Amrtananda and Captain Knox depicted on the wooden cover of the Lalitavistara, Patan, 1803. British Library, I.O San 688, back cover

The two other manuscripts of the Lalitavistara in the British Library (I.O San 341 and I.O San 2880) are copies of the 1803 manuscript given to Capt. Knox described above (I.O. San 688).

The manuscript I.O San 341 was made for Henry Thomas Colebrooke – a Sanskrit scholar, orientalist, and Chairman of the East India Company – in the 19th century, who wrote at the beginning: “The Lalita Vistara ... Knox”. This copy is also annotated on the first folios, but it is not illustrated. There is a blank page on which is written in a second hand: śodha ṭīkā para (correct according to the tika, i.e. commentary or gloss), and there are a few corrections in the same hand. This manuscript is part of the H.T. Colebrooke collection.

The abridged copy (I.O San 2575), which is named 'a Buddha Purana', was copied in the 19th C. It is part of the collection of Colin Mackenzie (1753-1821) and was copied by one of his pandits. The manuscript comprises just a table of contents to the Lalitavistara, and contains a note by Colebrooke at the beginning, which reads: 'An abridgment of the Lalita Vistara, a Purana, containing the history of the life of Buddha. The original was brought from Nepal by Capt Knox. This abridgement by a pandit in Mr. Colebrooks’s service, contains the whole substance of the voluminous original.'


Note by Colebrooke at the beginning of a manuscript containing a list of contents of the Lalitavistara, 19th century. British Library, I.O San 2575

Bibliography
Igunma, Jana, and San San May, eds. Buddhism: Origins, Traditions and Contemporary Life. London: The British Library, 2019.
“Lalitavistara | Life Story, Biography & Legends | Britannica.” 4 July 2024 . 
Lamotte, Etienne. History of Indian Buddhism: From the Origins to the Saka Era. Louvain-la-Neuve: Université catholique de Louvain, Institut orientaliste, 1988.
‘The Play in Full / 84000 Reading Room’. n.d. 84000 Translating The Words of The Buddha. Accessed 4 July 2024. 
Winternitz, Moriz. A History of Indian Literature. 2, Buddhist Literature and Jaina Literature. Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1933.

Azadeh Shokouhi, Sanskrit cataloguer

‘Passports and Identity Documents in the Hands of Artists’ is a new single-case display in the British Library’s Sir John Ritblat Treasures gallery. It highlights artists, photographers, designers and arts activists from Lebanon, Palestine, Syria, Turkey and Iran who, through artists’ books and artist-led publications, zines, photobooks and print ephemera, have reworked the concept, materiality and function of passports and other bureaucratic documents.

(Left to right) Sorry for Not Attending by Jana Traboulsi (2013) (ORB.30/8742); Hususi Pasaport by Gözde İlkin (2009).
© Jana Traboulsi and Gözde İlkin

Jana Traboulsi’s Sorry for Not Attending (2013) first drew my attention to this theme when I visited the Beirut book-art atelier Plan BEY in 2018. Traboulsi, a Lebanese visual artist, graphic designer and educator, was invited to participate in the ‘No Souls for Sale’ festival at the Tate Modern in London in May 2010. Due to a visa system that restricts Lebanese citizens from travelling easily to the UK, she was unable to attend. In response, she produced an artist’s book entitled Sorry for Not Attending that uses the format of the passport as a critical commentary on not being able to attend one’s own exhibition. Reproducing passport pages, real excerpts of visa applications, maps, stamps, drawings and stickers, she highlights four places—Europe, the United States of America, Palestine, the Asteroid B612—where it is difficult or impossible for a Lebanese passport holder to travel.

Examining the design politics of the passport, Mahmoud Keshavarz writes: “[T]he passport is not neutral but a real and powerful device with its own specific history, design, and politics, mediating moments through which socially constructed power relations can be enacted and performed.” He notes that just as passports “mediate experiences of moving, residing, and, consequently, acting in the world” they can also be “remediated” through cultural and artistic works. He writes: “These works, through acknowledging the brutality of the passport as a system of control, deception, and regulation, try to open this banal booklet and redirect it as an object of thinking, imagination, and memory with the hope of reworking the hegemonic narrative prescribed to them.”

(Left to right) Jawāz Safarī lil-Qirāʼah [My Reading Passport] by al-Jana Arab Resource Center for Popular Arts (c. 2000s) (ORB.30/9506); Leave to Remain: a Single Syrian Grain, Airbourn by Issam Kourbaj (2023) (ORB.30/9576).
© al-Jana Arab Resource Center for Popular Arts and Issam Kourbaj

Thinking together with Keshavarz and Traboulsi’s Sorry for Not Attending, I began to notice other artists who have creatively embarked on a similar process of remediation, using passports and other bureaucratic documents to explore themes of state control, mobility, displacement, exile, memory and identity. A selection of these works, together with Sorry for Not Attending, are included in ‘Passports and Identity Documents in the Hands of Artists’.

‘Passports and Identity Documents in the Hands of Artists’ display installed in the British Library’s Sir John Ritblat Treasures gallery
© Daniel Lowe

Istanbul-based artist Gözde İlkin’s Hususi Pasaport (2009) reflects on political borders referencing the Turkish "Green Passport." Palestinian photographer and graphic designer Majdi Hadid, in his contribution for the Subjective Atlas of Palestine (2007), enumerates the many documents required to travel under Israeli occupation. Jawāz Safarī lil-Qirāʼah [My Reading Passport] (c. 2000s), produced by al-Jana Arab Resource Center for Popular Arts, mimics a visa system as a tool to encourage reading and literacy for Palestinian children living as refugees in Lebanon. Cambridge-based artist Issam Kourbaj's Leave to Remain: a Single Syrian Grain, Airbourn (2023) draws on his own expired Syrian passport, while Adnan Farzat's Forgotten Moments (2020) uses a passport-like format to evoke his memories of Syria that are being slowly erased by time and conflict. Iranian-born artists Batool Showghi and Amak Mahmoodian in The Immigrant Book, No. 3 (2018) and Shenasnameh (2016) draw upon bureaucratic documents to show how identity is defined and fragmented.

Daniel Lowe, Curator, Arabic Collections

 

Further reading:

Gharbieh, Ahmad. “You Can’t Get There from Here: Notes on the New Lebanese Passport Design.” Journal Safar, vol. 3, 2017. (ZP.9.a.894)

Keshavarz, Mahmoud. The Design Politics of the Passport: Materiality, Immobility, and Dissent. London: Bloomsbury, 2019. (YC.2019.a.5851 and ELD.DS.346541)

Keshavarz, Mahmoud, and Ayla Kekhia. “The Design Politics of Passports: Materiality, Immobility, and Dissent.” Journal Safar, vol. 5, 2020. (ZP.9.a.894)

The first part of this blog post on the Gitagovinda, a 12th-century Sanskrit poem by Jayadeva devoted to the Hindu god Krishna, explored the contents of the poem and its allegorical interpretations. This post will focus on the region in eastern India which gave birth to the Gitagovinda, and the role of the Gitagovinda in the ritual of the Jagannatha temple at Puri.

The region known as Orissa (now Odisha) in eastern India has been the cradle of various traditions and religions. In the 6th century BCE, it had associations with Buddhism and Jainism. For centuries, both these traditions received patronage from the rulers of the region. From the accounts of the 3rd and 4th centuries CE it can be inferred that as the result of contact between the royal families in Odisha and Sri Lanka, there were mutual influences on religion through the local tribes who worshipped their own deities. The new settlers Sanskritised the names of these deities and worshipped the local gods, but did not change their iconographic features, as a sign of respect to the religious sentiment of the local dwellers. Even Mahayana Buddhists incorporated some aspects of the local pantheon into their belief system during the 5th and 6th centuries CE.

Avatars of Vishnu. Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with black ink illustrations, 18th century. Or. 13502, fols. 4v, 5r

Throughout the 4th-7th centuries CE different dynasties in the region worshipped Vishnu in various forms, like Narayana or Madhava, and certain royals, although claiming to be devout worshippers of Gokarneshvara (Shiva), granted charters in favor of the god Narayana, or even a village to the god Vishnu (Mishra 1971: 7, 8). Such grants of land were made by the rulers to Brahmins or to temples. Compared to royal families, elite groups such as merchants, military chiefs and nobles were more influential in activities such as temple building between the 6th and the 12th centuries (Singh 1994: 6, 296). It was in such an environment that the cult of Jagannatha emerged and developed.

In the 12th century, Vishishtadvaita vada, the Vaishnava devotional sect from South India, was influential in Odisha. According to Vaishnava traditional accounts, Ramanuja, the great Vedanta philosopher and one of the most important exponents of the Vaishnava tradition, visited Puri in Odisha in the early 12th century and established a school in the city. Having met and influenced the king of Puri, Ramanuja introduced the ritual of Vaishnavism to the Jagannatha temple. Consequently, Jagannatha has since been worshipped as the supreme form of Vishnu (Stoller Miller 1977: 5). As a result of this neo-Vaishnavism being merged with the remnants of other traditions in the region, Vaishnavite deities were worshipped in a Buddhist Tantric way, with an admixture of Brahmanical ritualism.

Deities on the first folio of the manuscript, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with black ink illustrations, 18th century. Or. 13502, f. 3r

Originating in eastern India in the 12th century, the Gitagovinda soon spread across the whole of the Indian subcontinent. By the 15th century, the Gitagovinda had already become part of the ritual of the Jagannatha temple at Puri, whose construction started in the 10th century and was completed in the 12th century. Because of their role in the nightly worship of Krishna, the songs of the Gitagovinda have been chanted in the Jagannatha temple for more than seven hundred years and are revered throughout Odisha. A key aspect of Odissi, a classical dance originating from Odisha, is the performance of these songs as the art form was developed through the religious art of temple dancers who dance Gitagovinda songs in praise of Jagannatha.


The Jagannatha temple with the three deities, depicted across all 12 folios of palmleaf, in a manuscript of Gitagovinda, with Sanskrit text in minute Oriya script. British Library, Or. 14110.

A unique manuscript of the Gitagovinda (Or. 14110), a copy of unknown date, was acquired by the British Library in 1982. It is a stitched palm-leaf folding book consisting of 12 leaves altogether with the text and illustrations only on the obverse. The poem’s Sanskrit verses are written in minute Oriya script, and there are also Sanskrit mantras written in Oriya script throughout the text.

This manuscript stands out for its format, layout, and artwork, because the text and accompanying illustrations are arranged in the shape of the façade of the Jagannatha temple at Puri in Odisha. There are three figures in the center, the deities Jagannatha, Subhadra (the younger sister of gods Krishna and Balarama also known as Balabhadra) and Balabhadra (the elder brother of Krishna). This trio of deities is worshipped at the Jagannatha temple.

Detail of the three deities in the Jagannatha temple, in a manuscript of Gitagovinda, with Sanskrit text in minute Oriya script. British Library, Or. 14110.

As mentioned, the history of the Jagannatha temple shows an amalgam of various influences and traditions. According to the 15th-century poet and scholar, Saraladasa, the cult of Jagannatha was identified with the cult of the Trimurti, the three supreme Hindu deities: Brahma (the creator), Vishnu (the preserver) and Shiva (the destroyer). Saraladasa equates Subhadra with Brahma. But since the Jagannatha temple is still dedicated to the cult of Hari-Hara (Vishnu-Shiva) and the worship of Sri Vidya (the Goddess), Subhadra is suggested to stand for Shakti (Hindu paramount goddess and consort of Shiva) who was worshipped in the form of Ekanamsa. The name Ekanamsa was changed to Subhadra, and consequently the goddess lost her position as the principal deity (Starza 1993: 63, 64). Balabhadra is sometimes considered as Shiva and sometimes as Ananta or the serpent, therefore representing the Naga cult, i.e. snake worship. But in essence, he is one of the deities in the Puranas (sacred literature of the Hindus which serves as a popular encyclopedic collection of myths, legends and genealogy) (Mishra 1971: 157).

Avatars of Vishnu, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with coloured illustrations, 18th century. IO San 3508, f. 5r

Most Vaishnavites, particularly Krishnaites, consider Jagannatha to be an abstract representation or avatar of Krishna or Vishnu. It has been suggested that Jagannatha may have originally been a local deity of an unknown tribe, whose worship was later incorporated into Brahmanism. When this new god was introduced, he was regarded as another manifestation of Vishnu.

Further reading:

Mishra, Kanhu Charan. The Cult of Jagannātha. [1st ed.]. Calcutta: Firma K.L. Mukhopadhyay, 1971.
Mukherjee, Prabhat. 1981. The History of Medieval Vaishnavism in Orissa. New Delhi: Asian Educational Services.
Singh, Upinder. Kings, Brāhmaṇas, and Temples in Orissa: An Epigraphic Study AD 300-1147. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal Publishers, 1994.
Starza, Olgierd Maria Ludwik. The Jagannatha Temple at Puri: Its Architecture, Art and Cult. Studies in South Asian Culture. Leiden: E.J. Brill, 1993. 
Stoler Miller, Barbara. Love Song of the Dark Lord: Jayadeva’s Gitagovinda. UNESCO Collection of Representative Works. New York: Columbia University Press, 1977.

Azadeh Shokouhi, Sanskrit cataloguer

Acknowledgment: Special thanks to Dr Arani Ilankuberan, the Head of South Asia collections, and to Pasquale Manzo, Lead Curator South Asia Collections and Curator of the Sanskrit collections, for their comments and suggestions.

This guest blog is by Shalini Amerasinghe Ganendra, Adjunct Professor at UNIMAS, Institute of Borneo Studies, Malaysia, and Associate Academic, History of Art, University of Oxford.

The use of photography in anthropology has a complex history, particularly when it comes to representing indigenous communities through early ethnographic research. When viewing collections such as the early 20th-century images of Sri Lanka’s Vedda community captured by Charles and Brenda Seligman, it is crucial to evaluate them not just for their historical significance but also through the ethical and legal frameworks that apply today.

The British Museum holds around 2,200 artefacts donated by the Seligmans mainly from Oceania, China and Africa, as well as a similar number of photographs, including over 400 glass negatives and prints documenting the Seligmans’ 1908 field research in Sri Lanka. Although the glass slides are yet to be fully catalogued, many of their photographs were reproduced in their seminal publication, The Veddas, two copies of which are held in the British Library (Seligmann 1911; note the different spelling of the surname). The publication’s images were produced in an era devoid of any standardised ethical guidance, whether in the taking or in the publication of such images.


‘The Vedda country, view from Bendiyagalge rocks’. Photograph from C.G. and B.Z. Seligmann, The Veddas (1911). British Library, T 11173, facing title page.

This article delves into the ethical implications and legal considerations surrounding these early photographs and reflects on the biases embedded in them. It also calls for and outlines potential frameworks for ‘fair and responsible’ representation of these images in contemporary settings, emphasizing the need for sensitivity in handling such cultural artifacts (Amerasinghe Ganendra 2023).


‘Sita Wanniya of Henebedda’, photographs from C.G. and B.Z. Seligmann, The Veddas (1911). British Library, T 11173, Plate V (p. 50) and Plate VI (p. 52).

Colonial Context and the Use of Photography
To understand the context in which the Seligman photographs were taken, it is essential to first explore the nature of British colonial presence in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka) and how photography was used as a tool of empire. British colonial policy in Ceylon, as in many other colonies, was grounded in the pursuit of power, profit, and prestige. Photography, emerging in the mid-19th century, became intertwined with colonial interests, portraying Indigenous people through a lens that emphasized their ‘exotic’ and ‘primitive’ qualities.

Ceylon, like India, saw a flourishing of commercial photographers in the 19th century, including names like Frederick Fiebig, Samuel Bourne, and Joseph Lawton, among others. Their work, often grouped under broad categories such as ‘ethnographic studies’ or ‘native types,’ served as visual documentation that reinforced stereotypes of indigenous peoples as culturally backward or inferior. These photographic genres, steeped in the prevailing racial hierarchies of the time, also reinforced the Vedda community’s “enduring marker” as an isolated, primitive group on the fringes of Sri Lankan society.

The Seligmans’ photographic project must be situated within this broader colonial tradition, where the visual documentation of ‘native’ populations was both a scholarly endeavour and an act of classification that supported colonial governance. Despite their groundbreaking contributions to the field of anthropology, the Seligmans were inevitably influenced by these biases, which framed the Veddas as a distinct and dying race worthy of preservation through scientific study.

The colonial portrayal of the Veddas did not begin with the Seligmans. The earliest English-language account of the community came from Robert Knox in 1681, whose description, despite being hearsay, remained an authoritative reference for over two centuries (Knox 1981b). Later colonial administrators and scholars, such as Rudolph Virchow and the Swiss naturalists Fritz and Paul Sarasin, echoed these notions of the Veddas as ‘intellectually inferior’ and ‘socially primitive’ (Virchow 1886; Kulatilake 2020).


‘A Vadda or Wild Man’. Robert Knox, An historical relation of the island Ceylon, 1681 (reprint; Colombo: Gunasena, 1981). British Library, YA.1988.b.25, p.100

These ideas were so pervasive that they coloured the work of subsequent anthropologists, including the Seligmans. This ‘Seligman bias,’ named here to reflect their role in reinforcing these perspectives, encapsulates the tendency to view the Veddas through a lens of isolation and stagnation, despite evidence of their dynamic interactions with other Sri Lankan groups. For example, the Seligmans repeatedly emphasized the Veddas’ physical and cultural distinctiveness from the Sinhalese, using selective observations to support this view, even when alternative explanations, such as the impact of nutrition on stature, were more plausible.

Legal and Ethical Constructs: Then and Now
When the Seligmans conducted their research, there were no ethical guidelines to dictate how indigenous subjects should be photographed or represented. Their project predated the formation of institutional ethics codes by decades, leaving researchers to rely on their own judgment, which was often skewed by contemporary scientific and cultural prejudices.

It was not until the mid-20th century that formal ethical constructs began to emerge, prompted by the horrors of World War II and the establishment of the United Nations, and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948.  The subsequent United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples 2007 codified principles of dignity and respect that extended to the cultural and intellectual property of indigenous communities. In more recent decades, guidelines such as the Code of Ethics for Research in the Social and Behavioural Sciences and the Global Code of Conduct for Research in Resource-Poor Settings have emphasized fairness, respect, and the need for collaboration with research subjects. These protocols require active engagement with the communities being represented, ensuring that their voices shape the narrative around their own histories.

Given the advances in both legal and ethical standards, how should we approach the Seligman Collection today? The main challenge lies in navigating the tension between preserving the historical significance of these photographs and addressing the biases they embody. Here are some considerations for presenting the Collection in a ‘fair and responsible’ manner:

1. Provide Historical and Ethical Context
Each photograph should be accompanied by a contextual preface that outlines the historical period in which it was taken and the lack of ethical guidelines at the time. This narrative should also highlight the possibility of unconscious bias in the Seligmans’ approach, inviting viewers to critically engage with the images.
2. Collaborate with the Vedda Community
The contemporary Vedda community should be involved in any effort to reframe or present these images. This collaboration could take the form of joint exhibitions, interpretive commentary, and decisions about which images are appropriate for public display. This approach not only aligns with modern ethical standards but also restores agency to the community that has historically been objectified.
3. Protect Sensitive and Sacred Content
Images that depict private or sacred aspects of Vedda life should be handled with extreme care. Unless the Vedda community explicitly consents, these photographs should not be publicly displayed. For example, images of women’s activities or rituals should be reserved for scholarly research only, with strict access protocols in place.
4. Rethink Representation
It is crucial to challenge the narratives that have long been associated with the Seligman images, namely that the Veddas are an isolated, primitive group. Instead, a more nuanced presentation should emphasise their resilience, adaptability, and historical interactions with other communities. This reframing can help dismantle the stereotypes that have contributed to their marginalization and erasure from the national narrative.

Moving Forward: Balancing Historical Value and Ethical Responsibility
The Seligman Collection holds immense historical value, providing rare visual documentation of a community at a particular point in time. Yet, as with any collection produced under colonial conditions, its legacy is fraught with ethical concerns. Addressing these concerns involves more than just reinterpreting the images; it requires a fundamental shift in how we approach early anthropological photography.

By embedding ethical considerations into the way these images are presented and interpreted, we not only honour the subjects of the photographs but also ensure that historical research contributes to a deeper, more respectful understanding of indigenous cultures, historically and into the present. This approach is not just a matter of correcting the biases of the past but of actively shaping a future in which indigenous voices are central to the telling of their own stories.

In conclusion, while the Seligman Collection emerged from a flawed historical context, it offers a unique opportunity to re-evaluate early ethnographic photography and its role in shaping public perceptions of Indigenous peoples. By embracing a framework of ‘fair and responsible’, we can re-present these images from relics of colonial anthropology into powerful tools for education, empathy, and engagement.

Shalini Amerasinghe Ganendra

This article is an abbreviated form of a presentation at the workshop at the National Portrait Gallery, London, “The British Empire in the Art Gallery: Practises, Discourses and Publics”, September 27, 2024. 

Further Reading:
Amerasinghe Ganendra, S. (2023). Veins of Influence: Colonial Sri Lanka (Ceylon) in Early Photographs and Collections. Colombo: Neptune.
Hight, Eleanor M. and Gary D. Sampson (2002). Colonialist Photography, Imag(in)ing Race and Place. London: Routledge.
Knox, Robert. (1981) An Historical Relation of the island Ceylon. Colombo: Gunasena.[Reprint of the 1681 ed.]
Kulatilake, S. (2020) ‘The Sarasins’ Collection of Historical Sri Lankan Crania’, Anthropological Science, 128(3), pp. 119–128.
Seligmann, C.G. and Brenda Z. (1911). The Veddas. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Stambler, B. (2019) ‘Context and Content: Colonial Photographs from Kandy, Ceylon’, in Cross-Cultural Exchange and the Colonial Imaginary: Global Encounters via Southeast Asia. NUS Press, pp. 217–238. 
Virchow, R. (1886) ‘The Veddás of Ceylon, and Their Relation to the Neighbouring Tribes’, The Journal of the Ceylon Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain & Ireland, 9(33), pp. 349–495.

 

The Gitagovinda is a dramatic lyrical poem written in Sanskrit by Jayadeva and is devoted to the Hindu god Krishna. It is a source of religious inspiration for followers of Vaishnavism, the form of Hinduism focused on the worship of Vishnu and his avatars, including Krishna.

The British Library holds numerous manuscript versions of the Gitagovinda in different scripts and with illustrations in various artistic styles . In this blog post, aspects of the Gitagovinda will be illustrated through two palm leaf manuscripts produced in the 18th century. In both manuscripts the Sanskrit text is written in the Oriya script, with etched drawings in the Odisha style. The first copy, Or. 13502, which was acquired in 1973, has monochrome illustrations in black ink. The second manuscript, IO San 3508, is part of the historic India Office Collection of Sanskrit manuscripts. It contains drawings etched in black ink which are then coloured, quite a rare occurrence for material of this kind. However, the copy is imperfect with some inaccuracies, and with some verses missing.

Sarasvati, the goddess of speech and Jayadeva, the poet. Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with black ink illustrations, 18th century. Or. 13502, f. 2v

Originating in eastern India in the 12th century, the Gitagovinda soon spread across the whole of the Indian subcontinent. There are temple inscriptions of this poem in Gujarat in western India, dating from the 13th century, as the poem was probably brought to Gujarat by Vaishnava pilgrims. The earliest evidence of the existence of the poem in Nepal is through a palm leaf manuscript in Newari script dated ca. 1447 CE. The songs of the Gitagovinda form an important part of devotional music and literature traditions in eastern and southern India. By the 16th century, the Gitagovinda was well known across northern India and recognised for its poetic intensity and religious expression.

Avatars of Vishnu. Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with coloured illustrations, 18th century. IO San 3508, f. 3v

Jayadeva was a 12th century poet-saint who shares his name with Krishna, the divine hero of his poem. At the beginning of the Gitagovinda, Jayadeva invokes Vishnu in all his ten manifestations, including Krishna, and in the context of the poem, the poet’s own name, Jayadeva, becomes an epithet of Krishna, hence acquiring sacred meaning. When his name is repeated at the end of each song, the listener is reminded of the poet’s special relation to Krishna:
“If remembering Hari enriches your heart
If his arts of seduction arouse you
Listen to Jayadeva’s speech
In these sweet soft lyrical songs.” (The First Song, Stoler Miller 1977: 69)

Krishna playing the Bansuri among cowherdesses, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with black ink illustrations, 18th century. Or. 13502, f. 11v

Legends about Jayadeva’s life say that he was born into a Brahmin family in the village of Kenduli Sasan, near the city of Puri in the Orissa (now Odisha) region of eastern India. As an accomplished student of Sanskrit and a skilled poet, he left school at an early age to become an ascetic and devote himself to God. However, his ascetic life ended when a Brahmin of Puri insisted that Jagannatha, “Lord of the World”, had ordered the marriage of Jayadeva with the daughter of a Brahmin named Padmavati, a dancer in the temple. The husband and wife shared their devotion for Jagannatha; and it is said that while Jayadeva composed, his wife Padmavati danced, and that was how the Gitagovinda was created (Stoler Miller 1977: 3). Early commentators of the Gitagovinda, however, do not identify Padmavati as Jayadeva’s wife. They argue that Padmavati or Padma are the names of Krishna’s divine consort, and that therefore, the “marriage” of Jayadeva and Padmavati in the legend should be interpreted as an allusion to Jayadeva’s initiation into the Vaishnava devotional tradition (Stoler Miller 1977: 5):
“Jayadeva, wandering king of bards
Who sings at Padmavati lotus feet
Was obsessed in his heart
By rhythms of the goddess of speech,
And he made his lyrical poem
From tales of passionate play
When Krishna loved Sri.” (The First Song, Stoler Miller 1977: 69)

Radha and Krishna, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with coloured illustrations, 18th century. IO San 3508, f. 13r

The Gitagovinda is considered a significant poem in the devotional literature of the Bhakti (Sanskrit: devotion) movement. The Bhakti movement originated in South India between the 7th and the 10th centuries and soon spread to North India. It emphasises the mutual intense love and emotional attachment between a devotee and a personal God. Bhakti poets followed the earlier Tamil secular traditions of erotic poetry, as well as royal traditions. As Doniger puts it: “They applied to the god what would usually be said of an absent lover or of a king”. In the same way, the Gitagovinda revolves around the love between Krishna and the cowherdess Radha, expressing the desire that the separated lovers have for one another. As we read in the ninth song:
“Divine physician of her heart,
The love-sick girl can only be healed
With elixir from your body.
Free Radha from her torment, Krishna –
Or you are crueller
Than Indra’s dread thunderbolt.” (The Ninth Song, Stoler Miller 1977: 89)

Krishna dancing with cowherdesses, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with coloured illustrations, 18th century. IO San 3508, f. 1r

Jayadeva uses intense earthly passion to express the complexities of divine and human love. He depicts the passion between the two lovers by creating an aesthetic atmosphere of eroticism that inspires Krishna’s devotees.
“Your eyes are lazy with wine, like Madalasa.
Your face glows like the moonlight nymph Indumati.
Your gait pleases every creature, like Manorama.
Your thighs are plantains in motion, like Rambha.
Your passion is the mystic rite of Kalavati.
Your brows form the sensual line of Citralekha.
Frail Radha, as you walk on earth,
You bear the young beauty of heavenly nymphs.” (The Nineteenth Song, Stoler Miller 1977: 114)

Radha’s friend taking her to Krishna, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with black ink illustrations, 18th century. Or. 13502, f. 49v, 50r

Many commentators have interpreted the eroticism in the poem as allegorical, with the love between Radha and Krishna symbolising the love of the human soul for God. Several Vaishnavite philosophers like Nimbarka, Vallabhacharya, and Caitanya believe that the concept of Krishna and Radha is a dualism which refers to Bhagavan (God) and Bhakta (devotee).

But not all commentators appreciated the erotic nature of the poem. For instance, Jagannatha Pandita, the 17th-century poet and literary critic condemns this aspect of the Gitagovinda, stating that vivid description of gods’ union in love is inappropriate, that Jayadeva had transgressed this unanimously accepted tradition like an intoxicated elephant, “and this bad example does not deserve to be followed by other writers” (Chatterjee 1992: 131-132; Achuthan 1998: 167).

Radha and her friend, Gitagovinda, Sanskrit in Oriya script, with coloured illustrations, 18th century. IO San 3508, f. 15r

The Gitagovinda has been translated into modern Indian as well as European languages. Goethe, referring to the German translation of the poem wrote: “What struck me as remarkable are the extremely varied motives by which an extremely simple subject is made endless” (Stoller Miller 1977: x).

A second blog post will explore the role of the Gitagovinda in the rituals at the Jaganatha temple at Puri in Odisha.

Further reading:

Acyutan, Māvēlikkara. Jagannātha Paṇḍita on Alaṅkāras. Trivandrum: Swantham Books, 1998.
‘Bhakti | Hinduism, Devotion & Rituals | Britannica’, 7 October 2024.
Jagannātha Paṇḍitarāja, Chinmayi Chatterjee, and Nāgeśabhaṭṭa. Rasagaṅgādhara of Paṇḍitarāja Jagannātha. Bibliotheca Indica. Calcutta: Asiatic Society, 1992.
‘Purana | Hindu Mythology, Legends & Texts | Britannica’, 10 September 2024. .
Stoler Miller, Barbara. Love Song of the Dark Lord: Jayadeva’s Gitagovinda. UNESCO Collection of Representative Works. New York: Columbia University Press, 1977.

Azadeh Shokouhi, Sanskrit cataloguer

Acknowledgment: Special thanks to Dr Arani Ilankuberan, Head of South Asia collections, and Pasquale Manzo, Lead Curator, South Asian collections and Curator of the Sanskrit collections, for their comments and suggestions.

Launched on 22 October 2014, the Qatar Digital Library (QDL) was developed as part of a longstanding partnership between the Qatar Foundation, the Qatar National Library, and the British Library. The partnership includes the digitisation of a wide range of material from the British Library’s collections, aimed at improving understanding of the modern history of the Gulf, Arabic cultural heritage, and the Islamic world.

Since the QDL’s launch, nearly two and a half million images have been published, mainly deriving from two collections held by the British Library: the India Office Records (IOR) and Private Papers, and the Library’s Arabic manuscripts collection. A small selection of items held by the Qatar National Library also features on the website. Published alongside all these images are detailed catalogue descriptions, available in English and Arabic.

The QDL’s expert articles

Since 2014, in addition to producing more and more images and accompanying catalogue descriptions, a dedicated team of experts working on the QDL has published a supplementary selection of 239 expert articles, mostly written by British Library curatorial, conservation, and cataloguing staff, with a small number of guest contributors. These articles are brief yet informative pieces, which aim to appeal to a range of audiences, from the casual reader to the serious researcher. They introduce users to the material, while detailing the records’ provenance and historical significance. They also highlight important subjects and themes and share fascinating stories found within the records.

The homepage of the QDL’s expert articles section

Types of articles

The types of articles vary. There are introductory pieces on the material and the people and organisations behind its creation. There are overviews of certain parts of the collections, be it an IOR series, a set of private papers, or those records relating to a specific subject. There are vignettes shedding light on rare finds and overlooked or relatively unknown individuals. There are country profiles and other articles on specific countries in the Gulf, including this one featuring some of the earliest surviving aerial photographs of Qatar. There are also more discursive pieces, many of which touch on British imperialist interests in the Gulf and the ways in which these manifested themselves.

Alongside these are several articles on the musical traditions of the Gulf, including ones with a specific focus on Kuwait, Qatar, and Oman. Other pieces explore the development of sawt (the urban music of the Gulf, which is thought to originate in Kuwait) in Kuwait and Bahrain, as well as the history of lesser-known musical genres in the region. Part of the partnership’s remit involves the digitisation of shellac recordings from the Gulf and wider region. While the recordings digitised to date are not yet hosted directly on the QDL, some of the music-related articles include embedded Soundcloud tracks.

Introductory articles

It is possible to browse the expert articles via several categories. The first of these, named ‘Introductory Articles’, mainly features short pieces introducing the collections and their creators, and is perhaps the best place to start for those who are new to the material. There is an article on the Library’s Arabic Manuscripts collection, and one on the India Office Records and Private Papers, as well as separate articles that look at the India Office Records and the Private Papers in greater detail. There are also articles on the two organisations that produced the India Office Records, namely the East India Company, and its successor, the India Office.

One of the QDL’s most viewed articles, in English and in Arabic, A Brief History of the English East India Company.

Other pieces within this section provide summaries of certain parts of the IOR collection, including an overview of the IOR Map Collection, and two more articles focusing on IOR maps. In addition, within the same category are several pieces with ‘Finding Aid’ in their titles, each exploring a particular IOR series. Individual series covered thus far include the following: IOR/F/4, IOR/G/29, IOR/L/MAR, IOR/L/MIL, IOR/L/PS/10, IOR/L/PS/12, IOR/R/15/1, IOR/R/15/2, IOR/R/15/4, IOR/R/15/5, and IOR/R/15/6. There are also ‘Finding Aid’ articles on the private papers of two notable British imperialists, Lewis Pelly and George Curzon. Eventually, the range of ‘Finding Aid’ style articles will be expanded to include not only those on specific IOR series, but also pieces on significant subject matter featured across various parts of the IOR collection. The first of these is a piece highlighting the various sources on the QDL relating to Palestine.

An extract from the QDL expert article, Finding Aid: Sources on Palestine.

Other categories and filters

There are several other categories through which to explore the articles. These are as follows: The British Empire in the Gulf; People and Places; Sciences and Medicine; Sound and Music; Arabic Manuscripts; Commerce and Communication; Culture and Religion; Power and Politics. Many of these overlap (i.e. an article may appear in more than one category). It is also possible to filter the articles by country and by date (beginning at pre-1600 and ending at 1900-49). There is insufficient space to go through all the categories here, so what follows is a selection of highlights representing the diverse range of articles.

Articles that illustrate points of intersection between Library collections

There are several articles that are not only interesting and revealing for their subject matter, but which also illustrate points of intersection between the different collections on the QDL. These include two articles on East India Company men who collected Arabic manuscripts, a piece on a Baghdadi bookdealer who also worked as a translator for the India Office, and an article on the imperialist provenance of the Delhi Manuscript Collection.

An extract from the QDL expert article, The Baghdadi Bookseller of Bloomsbury.

Articles resulting from collaborative work between different teams and specialists

Every article published on the QDL requires extensive collaboration, not least in the translation of the text into Arabic and the selection of illustrative images. Some pieces have also required collaboration at the research and writing stages, involving different teams and specialists. These include the following: a piece on the history and imagery of watermarks in paper; a co-authored article on the ‘Bania’ in the Gulf and the ways in which they are depicted in IOR files and volumes; an article on the important historical context behind the use of the term ‘piracy’ among British officials serving in the Gulf. Whilst many articles on the QDL do so implicitly, the latter two pieces explicitly stress the need for the records to be read critically through the prism of certain ideas that were prevalent among colonial officials of the time, especially those relating to racial, cultural, and national distinctions.

An extract from the QDL expert article, The Imagery of Early Watermarks.

Bookends of the British Empire

The QDL features material spanning virtually the entire era of British presence in the Gulf, covering the early 17th century to the mid-20th century. Articles on early British involvement in the Gulf include a ‘Finding Aid’ piece on the IOR/L/MAR series (i.e. the Marine Department Records, dated 1600-c. 1879) and an article on the third voyage of the East India Company (1607-10). Several articles cover the last decades of the British Empire, but two notably address the subject directly. One discusses the personal memoirs of former officers of the Indian Political Service (IPS) and their reflections on the final years of British India, including reminiscences of time served in the Gulf. The other marks a significant turning point in the immediate post-war period, in which the United States replaced Britain as Saudi Arabia’s key western sponsor and protector, thereby paving the way for it to become the predominant imperialist power in the region.

Articles on women in the records

As in many archival collections, women are under-represented in the records, and those who do feature are largely misrepresented. Two distinct but related articles touch on this issue while discussing the roles of women in 19th century Oman. One tells the story of Muzah bint Ahmad Al Bu Sa‘id, who, in the absence of her nephew the Imam of Muscat, took charge and defended his territories. The other challenges long-held assumptions about women in 19th century Omani society. Women are also discussed, albeit somewhat more peripherally, in an article concerning United States Christian missionaries in mid-20th century Bahrain and in a piece on the use of ice in the Gulf.

An extract from the QDL expert article, In the Absence of Men: Female Leaders in 1832 Oman.

Articles on language and terminology

Given the QDL is a bilingual site containing material in numerous languages (predominantly English and Arabic, though various others also feature), it seems fitting to highlight several articles that cover the subject of language and terminology. One is a piece on the Christian Arab Hunayn ibn Ishaq (809-873 CE), who translated into Arabic and Syriac all the books of Galen that were available to him. The article focuses on Hunayn’s bold but crucial decision to translate literally (rather than simply transliterate) essential Greek medical terms, making them comprehensible to all readers of Arabic. Terminology in IOR material is discussed in a trilogy of articles on nautical terms in the age of sail.

An extract from the QDL expert article, Ḥunayn ibn Isḥāq and the Rise of Arabic as a Language of Science.

More to discover, and more to come

The sixty articles cited in this post amount to just over a quarter of the total number currently available. There are many more waiting to be discovered. Meanwhile, the team of experts working on the QDL is busy writing and preparing more articles for new and existing users alike.

David Fitzpatrick, Content Specialist, Archivist, British Library/Qatar Foundation Partnership